


Comes A Time

by nbarker1990



Category: Shefani, The Voice (US) RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 19:14:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7857718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nbarker1990/pseuds/nbarker1990
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An observation, a lovemaking, a conversation. Zuma's birthday isn't just a time for remembering the past; it points them towards a future, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comes A Time

There’s something about seeing him with children which makes her love him even more, and maybe it’s just some womanly biological thing. Or maybe not. It probably doesn’t even matter, to be honest, not when her mind is so busy betraying her, filling her head with images of what _their_ hypothetical baby would look like.

 

“Pretty sure I wouldn’t mind just sitting here and watching you think all day, y’know,” her boyfriend says, the way he’s carefully watching the little girl in his lap (a soft smile playing at the corner of his lips) belying his words. “Your brow furrows. Kinda cute.”

“If I wasn’t so ridiculously flattered by your over the top comments, Blake, I’m pretty sure my family would be encouraging me to get a restraining order. My brow _furrowing_ is cute? I mean, please.”

Shrugging his shoulders, he adjusts his hold on Lila, one of his strong forearms under her butt to support her weight as she pushes into his chest. “Just sayin’ it like it is, darlin’. I thought my honesty was what you liked most about me. After my enor - “

“Blake Shelton, don’t you _dare_ finish that sentence!” she shrieks, making sure to lightly slap his arm for good measure. God, he’s impossible sometimes. “Literally, you’re sitting with an innocent little baby on your lap and you want to talk about the size of your…” She falters, lowers her voice because she’s already exhausted and snapping at guests for mocking her is never a good look. “D. I. C. K.”

“Well, someone’s making assumptions,” he says into her ear. “I was, of course, referring to my enormous heart and capacity for generosity.”

“Speaking of dicks…” Gwen replies, rolling her eyes but unable to stop from smiling when Lila’s tiny hand reaches out for her finger. “God, Blake, she’s super cute, isn’t she?”

“Well, she’s not drooling on _you_ , so…”

 

She knows he’s joking though, knows that he has a weakness for babies and toddlers that he’s only recently become more comfortable with acknowledging. Often he’ll mock himself, talk about how irresponsible hicks shouldn’t be trusted babysitting, but she’s refused to let him play it off as a joke, has tried to reassure him of her reality – that she trusts nobody with her babies as much as she trusts him. It sort of crept up on her, that certainty, somewhere in between the day he managed to stop Apollo from sobbing over a broken toy by singing some lullaby she’d never heard, and the night he spent a solid two hours researching the history of the Great Wall of China so he could help King with a project.

“Did you want to hold her?” he asks suddenly and she realizes that she’s gone to that place again, that cruel place where she lets herself wish, lets herself have a little hope. It’s a distraction technique and a balm that he’s offering her, she knows that, but she wants that baby in her arms anyway. “Of course you do,” he says fondly with a deep chuckle. “The day you turn down a baby is the day I turn down a drink.”

She finds herself laughing at _that_ , because if people only knew how little he drank, they’d never again see a tabloid implying that he’s close to being an alcoholic. “Well, hand the cherub over then, cowboy. If she’ll allow you to go, that is…”

“Heyyyy, Lila,” Blake says, trying to detach her chubby fingers from his collar. “Time to let go, hey? Someone wants you real bad, sweet girl. She gives the best cuddles, I promise.” Peppering little kisses to Lila’s chocolate-smeared cheek, he finally manages to get her to shift onto Gwen’s lap, settling her there with promises that he’ll come back right away. “’sides, I’m in urgent need of a piss,” her boyfriend adds with a grimace. “I swear, every time she bounced, I felt my bladder crying out in anguish…”

He walks away and she finds herself following his path, tracing the curve of his shoulders and his slow, measured gait with her eyes. He bends to pick up some stray candy from the floor, and surreptitiously has a quick look around him before shoving all three pieces right into his mouth. “Look at that silly man, Lila, my love. You gotta watch yourself for those ones.”

 

“Talking to yourself, Mom?” Kingston’s slim arms reach around her, his cheek coming to rest against hers. “Not a good sign…”

“Talking to this little one, thank you very much. My sons all deserted me to play with their friends, so I had to find a replacement. It’s very sad.”

Laughing, he tickles Lila under the chin. “How old is she?”

“Maybe five months, I think? Remember when Apollo was this age? Pretty sure he thought you were god.”

“Only cos I let him drool all over me and even changed his diapers.”

Gwen turns, reaching a hand up so she can cradle her eldest’s cheek. “I’m so proud of you, y’know, King. You’re such a great big brother.” Smile faltering, she blinks back the tears she can feel welling up. “I’m very lucky.”

Looking slightly uncomfortable (and it’s moments like this she realizes how quickly he’s moving towards his teenage years), he pats her shoulder a few times before running over to the slide.

 

“Boys will be boys,” she murmurs into Lila’s soft curls, breathing in that unique baby scent and savoring the way her little fingers are clinging to her necklace. “And men will be boys too.”

“But men can be men, too,” a slow drawl comes from close behind her.

“Christ! Is everyone creeping up on me today?!” His laugh is way too loud and way too enthusiastic, and she knows she’s not _that_ funny, but she loves that he seems to think she is.

“I got waylaid on my way back to you, y’know. Apparently the baby doesn’t belong to us after all, and we have to give her back to her _actual_ family.”

“They’re about to go?” His face is sympathetic as he reaches his arms out for Lila, making little hushing noises when her face scrunches up. Trying not to pout, she surrenders, decides to pull out her iPhone and check Twitter instead of giving into the temptation to observe how damned good Blake looks with a baby in his arms. She has the same sort of response to seeing him with her boys, but this is slightly different, slightly _more_ , maybe because of Lila’s age or maybe because it’s a girl. She’s beyond grateful for the miracle of children, beyond content with having three sons, but she’s not beyond occasionally lingering on what ifs and maybes, even though she knows, in her heart of hearts, that it’s not going to happen for them.

 

It’s almost nine pm before the last of the guests leave and she’s pretty sure she’s going to need to sleep until midday if she wants to get over this exhaustion she’s feeling. Blake’s been yawning every few minutes as he ties the garbage bags and moves them outside, and yeah, that’s contagious too. It might be petty of her (and no, she’s not above feeling that way, even a year on) but from what the boys told her about the party Gavin threw, she won big-time. That thought helps to perk her up a little, enough to get all her monkeys tucked into bed, Apollo already fast asleep and the older two rubbing their eyes and stifling yawns.

Then and only then, still clutching the pajamas Apollo refused to wear (apparently, whether they’re in dire need of a wash or not, he WILL wear the ones with cowboys), she collapses onto the couch. Melodramatically, because she’s allowed to be like that sometimes... Blake follows suit, depressing the cushion as he falls back with a heavy sigh, an arm automatically coming up to the back so it can rest around her shoulder. She snuggles in, crosses her legs under her so she can curl up as close as their bodies allow 

“Long day.”

“A very long day,” he agrees, kissing the top of her head and taking her hand in his. When she was with Gavin, she’d probably loved this time of the day most, that quiet almost-still moment or three after the kids were in bed. He was softer then, kinder perhaps. It had felt like it anyway, that he genuinely wanted to spend time with her and not just give the usual lip service to mollify her.

“I could sleep here, y’know,” Gwen mumbles into his soft shirt. “So comfy.”

She can feel his soft laugh where she lays on him, presses her ear closer so she can hear his heartbeat too. Regular, steady.

“And no fat jokes, Blake. I like you how you are.” She turns and settles herself between his legs, elbows on his chest so she can look right into his face. He always gets a little uncomfortable when she does this but she’s determined to make him like himself as much as she does. She knows what it’s like to be belittled, to belittle oneself, and she wants better for her man. “I’m not just being contrary, y’know,” she adds softly. “You’re super hot and your body gets a big thumbs up from me.”

 

His kiss is tender, a worshiping of her lips. When he pulls back, it’s with a heavy sigh of pleasure. “I have no idea what I did to deserve you, baby. No freakin’ idea.”

Tangling her fingers in his mussed hair, she tugs his face back up to hers, nuzzles his nose. “You were just you. And that’s always enough.” 

His low whimper at her words does something to her, makes her stomach all twisty and her throat feel tight. It’s a crystal clear memory, the day she’d realized he wasn’t as indestructible as she’d assumed, wasn’t always as wonderfully cheerful. The weight loss when he’d returned to The Voice had been noticeable but it had only been after he’d made his announcement, when she’d seen the lines on his face and the way he had to force a smile, that she’d known that his suffering was dragging him down, that he was hurting like she was hurting.

“Today was good, babe. You did good.” His smile is slightly insecure but he meets her eyes, accepts the compliment. And it’s a very real one. Of course it helps having nannies and band-members and dancers and family and friends and everyone else around to make things run smoothly, but Blake had been the one there to help Apollo get some candy when he couldn’t force his way past the older kids. And Blake had been the one to greet and settle some extended family members who had turned up late. And Blake had been the one who hadn’t uttered a single word of complaint when three toddlers had thrown themselves at him, demanding to ride him like a horse.

“I’m happy,” he murmurs into the skin at the crook of her neck. “I’m just really happy. Thanks to y’all.” 

“Right back at ya, cowboy.” 

Happiness had always been something that’s been pretty easy for her to grasp, to hold onto, Blake too from the way he’s talked to her about his past, and it’s really only in retrospect that she’s realized how important contentment – of the type that is stable and restful and reliable - is to her and how much it had been missing from her life until the past few months.

His hands are stroking up and down her back, smooth, calming motions that have her wanting to just fall asleep, and so she lets herself close her eyes. A nap is allowed, surely.

 

It’s only when she starts feeling his whiskers against her cheek, notices that he’s whispering something to her, that she blearily opens an eye to see what’s going on. It’s darker in the room now (it feels close to midnight but she can’t be bothered to check) and his own eyes are slightly hooded.

“G’morning, sunshine.” 

Gwen makes a half-hearted attempt to slap his chest (because why the hell does he have that smirk on his face?), laughs tiredly when he captures her hand in his and brings it to his lips for a kiss. He’d probably never be caught dead admitting it but her boyfriend has got to be the most romantic guy she’s ever met, and even though she knows that there are more important things in a relationship, it makes her absurdly happy whenever he takes a small moment and imbues it with a touch or a word that lets her know how much she means to him.

“Gonna just use _me_ as a bed, are ya?”

“Mmmmmm, but what if I do? I could, y’know,” she says teasingly. “Just settle myself down like - ” He lets out a sharp breath as she grinds down onto him, getting purchase on his jeans and shifting so she maximizes his discomfort. Sometimes it pays to be cruel, and he takes her up on the silent challenge (offer?), palming her ass and tilting his hips, leaving her almost panting with want.

“Gwennn, fuck…” he groans out, leaning up to capture her lips, tangle their tongues. “We gotta - ”

“You gotta shut up and love me,” she retorts, undoing the top three buttons of his shirt and kissing his bare chest, the gray hair there tickling her skin. “Harder,” she hisses as Blake thrusts against her core, needing more friction, more pressure, more everything.

“The kids,” he manages to gasp out, his hand tightening on her ass when she reaches between them to palm his thickening erection. “They - ”

“They’re asleep. Like a million rooms away,” Gwen insists. Her lover’s lower lip is slightly swollen from her kisses and so she bites, just a little, relishing the way his heartbeat stutters under her breasts when she does. One of her favorite things about Blake (and it’s a crazy long list at this point) is that he enjoys when she takes control and is a little rough almost as much as he enjoys doing the same to her. “Now. Please, please just - ”

 

His kiss is hot and wet and slightly messy, but it has intent in every stroke of his tongue, a promise of more, and so she embraces it, embraces him, her nimble fingers quickly undoing the button on his jeans and unzipping him. He’s almost vibrating with need when she finally touches him, strokes him just three times before she lifts up from him to try and remove her dress.

“Fuck’s sake, Blake, help me already.”

His hands cover hers on her thighs where the material as been bunched up, stopping any progress she’s made. “The kids could come downstairs. Let me - ” Quickly, he reaches behind him, pulls a throw from the back of the couch and makes a half-hearted effort to cover them with it. “Clothes can stay on. We can work around them,” he adds with a sly grin, hands already creeping up under the dress.

 

And they do.

 

They fall into a familiar rhythm, his hands on her hips and one of hers on his chest, the other on her clit as she rubs against him. Blake likes to take his time, to make her beg, but frankly, they don’t have the luxury of that right now and she doesn’t have the inclination. She needs him now, and so, when he starts slowing their pace, she growls at him and takes him in hand. “I swear, you need to get in me right now or god help me…”

Her thong rips when he obeys her command with his usual enthusiasm, and maybe she’ll regret it later (brand new and probably far too expensive; worth it to see his face, though), but right now, right now she’s aching for him to fill her. Blake grips her hips, urging her down onto him, groaning into her neck as she adjusts their angle slightly, letting him seat himself more fully. He feels good, so good, and she’s pretty sure’ll never get sick of the way it feels with him.

She ends up coming twice, almost accidentally biting her own lip the first time to stop herself from screaming his name. Laughing uninhibitedly, he flips her then, pinning her to the cushions below them. Capturing her lips with his own, his thrusts become less controlled, more frantic, and his fingers curl into her now-loose hair as he moves within her. Arching into him, Gwen urges him on, curses and prayers and cries becoming one needy moan as he picks up the pace. He waits for her, holds on (barely) until she goes over the edge again, and then he’s coming in her, and she briefly wonders ‘what if’ before surrendering to pure feeling, to the warm weight of his body atop hers.

 

Blake’s breathing is every bit as rough and unsteady as hers, and she strokes along his jawline, caresses his flushed cheeks, as he turns them to lay on their sides. “Hi there...” she whispers.

“Hey.” His voice is warm and deep and even more of a drawl than it usually is, reminiscent of the way he sounds after a week back in Tish or when he’s just woken up in the morning. He’s still in her and she can feel him twitch when she runs a hand down his chest. She wants more. But they can’t, not really. God, they’ve pressed their luck enough already for one night; they have a perfectly good bed upstairs, after all.

“Blake?”

“Mmm?”

She hesitates, not knowing whether she should bring it up, now or ever. After all, there’s almost no chance, but… “We didn’t, y’know, we didn’t use anything.”

He shuts his eyes momentarily at the words, and she can feel his arms band around her just that little bit more tightly. “It’s okay.”

“Is it?”

And she finds herself wanting a particular answer far too much, and god, she can’t let herself go there. It’s simply not a factor in their relationship. Early on, they’d had a brief, somewhat awkward conversation about the fact that if he did want to be with her, he was basically throwing away any chance of having his own kids. He’d nodded and smiled and kissed her, reassured her that he had everything he wanted with her now. And she’d believed him. Still does.

 

“I had two miscarriages before I had Apollo, y’know,” she admits softly, mumbling the words into his shirt, half-hoping he doesn’t actually hear her. “He was a miracle. In _every_ way.”

“I was reading about, um, later-in-life pregnancies the other day. In the doctor’s office when I had my check-up. It was just there, y’know, and…” Blake clears his throat, avoids her gaze, his fingers tripping all over her thigh. “The percentage is low. Just for falling pregnant. And the risks are - ”

“Yeah, they are,” she agrees, and she hates admitting it, actually, like verbalizing it makes it more real somehow. “You know how, back in the beginning, we said we’d just live life, just let the cards fall where they will. Maybe we could, if you want to - ” Flustered, Gwen wriggles a little, rests a hand against Blake’s heart, and maybe it’s a touchstone or maybe she needs to remind herself that they’re two separate people.

“I want everything, y’all know that. If that means we’re blessed with another child, I want it. If we can’t, that’s okay too. I’m content." 

“So…”

“So no more late-night stops at the drugstore to pick up condoms.”

Gwen laughs, rolls on top of her boyfriend. “There are perks.”

“Definite perks,” he agrees. She can’t stop herself from trying to read his expression, see whether they really are on the same page. He stops her, his hands framing her face as he gives her a long, sweet kiss. “I mean it, Gwen. You’re an amazing songwriter, a mesmerizing performer, a fashion icon, but your heart is the best thing. And your heart beats for those boys of yours. And I love that. I love the way you love your kids.”

“And the way I love you.”

“I love that the best,” he admits with a small smile, tucking a few slightly damp strands of hair behind her ear. “Let’s go to bed.”

 

She wakes up at six am, the damned rooster making a nuisance of itself for what seems like the third time this week. Blake’s still asleep beside her and Apollo’s sprawled on top of his body like a little starfish. Her heart skips a beat.

She prays.


End file.
